


appetite of a people-pleaser

by CurriedSugar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Isaac Beamer Versus the Supernatural (Undertale), Angst and Feels, Eating Disorders, FUCK YEA, Gen, Heavy Angst, Purging, Self-Esteem Issues, Song: Appetite of a People-Pleaser, Songfic, body image issues, that has a tag???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26957623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurriedSugar/pseuds/CurriedSugar
Summary: We see how Drew deteriorates as his eating disorder takes over his life.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 35





	appetite of a people-pleaser

**Author's Note:**

> DEAR SWEET LADY JESUS CHRIST OUR SAVIOR-
> 
> This is probably the longest oneshot I've ever done. In all of my fic writing days, I have NEVER written a single-chapter story that was _this long._ It's over 5k, for Christ's sake!
> 
> This was actually longer, but I decided to scrap the rest and make a second part because my god this is so long already, if i finished it as a single fic I'd probably break AO3.
> 
> If you happened to not read the tags, the song is [ Appetite of a People-Pleaser](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kf3Err9MvDg) by GHOST! It's one of my favorite songs by them, and I felt like this fit for Drew (well, at least anorexic Drew.)
> 
> Enjoy!!

**Ideas forming out of thin air**

**These indulgences none can compare**

Nobody knew how much Drew wanted to  _ indulge,  _ to eat anything he wasn’t allowed to; enormous slices of cheesecake, those giant bags of candy that people buy to pass out at Halloween, boxes and boxes of super sugary snack cakes and treats that you pack with your lunches, family or party sized bags of chips and cookies.

He was even craving things that he’d never had before, like creme brulee, or flan. Who the fuck likes  _ flan _ ?!

Not Drew, that was for sure. He couldn’t have any of that anyways. How many calories were in flan, anyways? Drew didn’t really want to think about that, to be honest. One single serving of flan could have  _ thousands  _ of calories, as far as he knew. And it made him feel really sick.

But that was good. It was getting harder and harder for Drew to purge. But thinking about fatty, greasy, unhealthy foods, it made him puke. And when he puked, calories left his body before they could absorb.

Thank God for purging. 

But Drew  _ hated  _ whoever invented calories.

**So many flavors that one would abhor**

**And even though I’ve had enough**

**I still demand: give me more!**

Drew stared at everything in the lunch line, hunger eating away at his empty insides. Oh God, he was so hungry. He was on a salad diet this week, so all of the meals that he’d been eating had consisted of salad, and nothing but. Just a plain salad, with greens and the occasional tomatoes, mushrooms, and olives. But now all of that was biting him in the ass as he shuffled through the line on shaky, twiglike legs.

Everyone complained that the food the school served at lunch was hardly even mediocre, including Chris, but to Drew, who had been eating small amounts of salad once or twice a day for the past four days, it looked so appealing, so delicious. It was practically a fancy banquet to the starving boy. 

Honestly, at this point, Drew was so hungry he wouldn’t care about how the food was cooked, its flavor or taste, or what it looked like. Hell, he didn’t care if it was  _ edible  _ at this point, he was that hungry. It was taking all of Drew’s willpower to not leap across the counter and shovel whatever sort of sludge was in the metal compartments into his wet, watering mouth. 

Drew gripped tighter onto the container of salad in his hands, gritting his teeth. He couldn’t cave in. Not now. Not today. He’d gone without binging for so long; one week, six days, nineteen hours, thirty-three minutes, and fifteen seconds and counting. Nearly two weeks had gone by without Drew overeating like a gross, fat, disgusting hog.

And oh, did Drew feel proud as he stumbled through the lunch line, ignoring how the food smelled, heading for an empty table. He felt in  _ control,  _ like he knew absolutely everything about anything and everyone all at once, as if he were a see-all, know-all deity of sorts. That feeling felt so, so good, it was almost sickening! If Nevin wouldn’t tell him anything, this was the next best thing, that was Drew’s logic.

Drew heard his stomach growl as he plopped down in a chair, begging for more to eat than just some salad and a can of diet soda. The small boy ignored it, spearing a piece of lettuce on his fork and eating it, the crunch echoing through his head a bit. 

He had to keep going. He had to keep this up.

**I need a whole personality**

**Something inordinately sweet**

**Order anything you’d like**

**Nothing’s changing my mind**

Drew wanted to cry when he heard himself laugh. To his friends, it sounded like genuine laughter, but to him it sounded fake. Forced. Totally unlike how he wanted to truly be; cheerful, happy-go-lucky, strong, pretty and thin. He just couldn’t understand why the people who called him “friend” treated him the way they all did. Couldn’t they see the real him?

They all knew Drew was a downer and a burden, weak, ugly and fat, didn’t they? They had to have noticed somehow and sometime, right? It was oh so painfully obvious, you could tell just by looking at him!

And they were  _ encouraging  _ him to  _ stay  _ fat! They kept giving him fatty, high-calorie foods; chocolate bars, bags of chips, those tiny packages of trail mix, and with the tiny chocolate gems in them, too!

Luckily, Drew usually had enough willpower to get rid of the snacks once he got the chance to, by any means necessary. Sometimes he threw out the food, other times he gave it to some of his peers. Any way was fair game, as long as he didn’t eat it. He didn’t want to risk himself going on a huge binge, especially after he’d been oh for the love of God Chris was giving him a bag of miniature cookies there was no way he could eat this.

“Go on, take it,” Chris urged, a worried look piercing his smoky gray eyes. “You really look like you need it, Drew. I don’t want to be rude, but you haven’t been looking real healthy these days.”

Healthy? Drew thought. Healthy was exercising regularly, on an everyday basis at  _ least.  _ Healthy was setting a certain amount of calories for each day and eating no more than that amount. Healthy was never having a cheat day, ever. Healthy was never letting not even an ounce of junk food or sugar pass your lips. Healthy was trying actively to be thin. And if you were already thin, you did all that to  _ stay  _ that way.

Drew mumbled something and nodded, waiting for Chris to leave before dumping it in the nearest trash can. There was no way he could eat that junk. No way. A single pack of those mini cookies contained 140 calories, ten grams of sugar, seven grams of fat, and nineteen grams of carbs. Putting that in his body would be poison to him. It’d make him blow up like a balloon for  _ sure. _

And he wanted so, so hard to be thin.

**I don’t care how unhealthy it is**

**Cause there isn’t anything I’d rather be**

Some people could say that Drew’s methods for trying to lose weight were unhealthy, that he was putting his own health in danger, that he should see a doctor and get himself checked out, that it was making him look yada yada yada yada.

Honestly, Drew didn’t give a rat’s ass. He was seeing changes in the mirror, and in his wardrobe. Clothes that were once a bit too tight before were practically falling off of his body now. He could fit in the smaller, more cuter clothing sizes. People were actually commenting on his appearance, in more  _ positive  _ ways now. Saying he looked more mature, a little handsome, even. A few people had even asked him for dieting tips, since they were amazed and inspired by all the weight Drew had lost in so little time. And Drew loved it.

But at some point, Drew started binging. Binging all the fatty, calorie-dense foods that he never let himself have, ever. And he gained weight. Lots of it, five to ten pounds. And it made him cry and scream and tear chunks of his hair out and cut huge gashes all over his arms and use the knife to carve chunks of flesh off of his body. 

The chunks weren’t too big, thank goodness, and they eventually healed, but they still left scars. And it made Drew want to cry every time he saw them. Along with the scars left from his self-harming.

But he didn’t hurt himself again after he gained weight again the first time, at least not on purpose. Pretty people didn’t hurt themselves, Drew reminded himself. And pretty people weren’t fat and ugly like he was.

And that just gave him more motivation to lose weight. After all, he wanted to be thin and pretty more than anything else in the universe. 

**Call me obsequious**

**I guess I’m a bit dramatic**

**Sometimes my appetite is eerily erratic**

Drew had failed.

He stared at the paper, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. How had he failed the quiz? Sure, he was pretty sure he’d made a few tiny mistakes here and there, but he was sure the rest of his answers had been right! He’d studied so hard…

**_Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time stuffing your fat face._ **

Drew shook his head roughly, trying to erase the thought from his mind. Not today, not today. He was having a really bad day today, and he couldn’t think of how fat he was! How horribly, disgustingly, fat and morbidly obese he was…

Oh, for the love of Christ, he’d started his brain up again. And right when he’d hit the two week mark for not binging. Well, the two weeks, two day, six hour, twenty-four minute and thirty-seven second mark, if you wanted the exact number. 

But he couldn’t let this throw him into the hole of binging! He’d been doing really, really well with trying not to binge! Two whole weeks, that was a record! Before this the record had been one week, three days, twenty-two hours, fifty-six minutes, and nine seconds. He’d beaten that record by over four days by now.

He could continue the record of not binging! He just had to stay strong. Thin is pretty. Thin is good. Thin is strong. Thin is pretty, thin is good, thin is strong. Thin is…

Oh, who was he kidding?

The bell rang, and he rushed out of the classroom and out of the school. He stopped at a small gas station store nearby and gathered tons of food; chips, ice cream bars, regular soda, candy, cookies and snack cakes, and even a few containers of Nutella and just plain, straight-up cake frosting. Drew felt like throwing up right on the spot as he eyed all the food he had collected as the cashier checked him out. Oh God, oh dear God, he was gonna pig out like crazy, wasn’t he?

Drew threw some cash at the person at the register and ran home as fast as his sticklike legs could carry him. He grabbed a spoon from a drawer and hurried up to his room. He sat down on his bed roughly, throwing all of the junk he’d purchased in front of him and tore into it all, like a starving hog. He felt disgusting, eating all of this high-calorie, fatty and sugary food, but oh sweet Jesus, it felt good to fill the void in his stomach for once, even if it was temporary. 

He soon lost complete and total control of his body, just mindlessly shoveling in handfuls after handfuls of food. His hunger was blinding him, to the point where he was barely even chewing at this point; just once, twice, and then swallowing, chasing it down with some soda or whatever he could get his hands on to drink. He wasn’t even tasting the actual  _ food,  _ he just felt it in his mouth and throat. The chips poked at scratched at his throat as he gulped them down, the ice cream bars hurt his teeth from how cold they were, the bubbles from the soda sent shivers all up and down his body. 

All of those calories and carbs, all those grams of sugar and fat, they would all add up on his waistline. Drew betted that he’d consumed tens of thousands of calories, all right here in one sitting. And honestly, it disgusted him just thinking about it. God, what a fat, obese hog he was. 

**Give me your dire expectations**

**And I’ll consume perfection**

**You are what you eat, after all**

Drew felt all bloated and stuffed, groaning softly as he carried all his garbage and the rest of the junk he couldn’t force down his throat to the tin trash can on the curb. Jesus fucking Christ, his stomach hurt so bad. This was probably the biggest binge he’d ever had. Why did he eat so much. Why did his binge have to be so huge this time around? And right when he was doing so well, too…

It felt kind of nice though, being full. He didn’t get to feel full very often anymore, usually only when he binged or he was forced to eat a “proper” meal (the meal in question usually hundreds, if not at least a thousand calories). But it was a necessary sacrifice, Drew supposed. Beauty is pain, after all. And if Drew had to eat less, and experience the absolutely brutal hunger pangs so he could feel pretty, then so be it.

And speaking of hunger and food, he had new rules to set for himself.

Drew marched up to his room, opening a notebook and scribbling things down. 500 calories a day became 300. Two hours of working out became four, with additional cardio. No red meat or carbs. The list continued on, and Drew felt himself regain a little bit of control with each and every single rule that he scribbled in the notebook.

If Drew was going to be thin and pretty, he had to  _ work  _ for it. He had to keep eating the set amount of calories, and work out regularly. No skipping the gym or P.E., only one small meal a day. He was feeling more and more exhausted lately, but he didn’t care.

Thinness was his goal. Thin was pretty. Thin was perfect. Drew was fat, ugly, and…  _ not  _ perfect.

But oh, how that would change! He’d soon be thin, he’d soon be beautiful, he’d soon be the most perfect little boy anyone ever knew! They’d all see!

They say you are what you eat… but they left out that you were perfect if you never eat.

**Everything combines into one**

**So many flavors that one would abhor**

**And I know I’ve had enough, I’ve gone too far**

Drew stumbled into the school on shaky legs. He felt tired, so tired. And everything hurt and ached. It felt like someone had punched him repeatedly all over his body with all their strength, that’s how much it hurt. His head felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer made of cement to it, his thoughts fuzzy and blending together and becoming a confusing, incoherent mess, which made his head hurt even more. 

He felt like he was in a daze as he dragged himself through the halls, his insides being eaten from the monstrous hunger that lived inside him, begging to be vanquished by something more  _ calorific,  _ something more  _ filling  _ than plain salad, rice cakes, sugarless gum, a few nuts or berries and diet soda or water.

Drew gritted his teeth. He was screaming at himself internally, telling himself to stay strong; stay strong, stay skinny, stay pretty, stay hungry. He squeezed his eyes shut, repeating the mantra again in his head, mouthing the words quickly and quietly, digging his fingernails into his arms. You could see the bone, but in Drew’s eyes, his arm was practically a log. A big, flabby log. 

He could feel himself grow more and more dizzy. It was normal at this point; when he was home alone, he sometimes passed out if he stood up too quickly or stayed standing for long periods of time. But he couldn’t faint at school! The teachers would throw a shit fit and call an ambulance, and Drew couldn’t have that!

Luckily, there was a small bench nearby, so he sat down on that, gasping and trying to catch his breath. His legs were still shaking, and his bones were rattling like maracas. He felt really cold, when was the school this cold? Drew pulled out a thick and heavy hoodie and yanked it over his head, sighing as he felt so much more warmer. He took a deep, slightly shaky breath, staring off into space as his hunger gnawed away at him.

Sometimes, at moments like this when he was freezing and hungry and felt so weak, he wondered why he did all this in the first place. Why he starved himself to the point where he felt too weak to stand. Why he worked out until he nearly collapsed on the spot. Why he ate so little, even though he wanted to eat several pounds of food in one sitting, without giving a rat’s ass about calories.

But then he remembered why.

**Now that I’ve become a full-course identity**

**Take a bite of me**

**I hope that I’ve become a favorable delicacy**

**That I’m worth something**

Several people passed by the bench Drew was sitting at. He didn’t recognize them, really; he knew a few of them from his classes, but he didn’t really interact with them much, if he even did at all, so he hardly even knew or remembered their names. But that didn’t stop them from complimenting him. 

That he looked great, did he lose some weight? Good for him, the weight loss did him well! How did he lose all that weight so fast, what was his secret? They were dying to know what he did!

Drew felt proud, a type of proud that made his heart swell up and threaten to explode on impact. God, he loved this sort of feeling! It made him feel wanted, loved, appreciated, like he was actually worth something, instead of being hated, mocked and scorned.

These sorts of people, who complimented him and said how good he looked and commented on his weight loss, they  _ encouraged  _ him, pushed him to lose even more! When he wanted to give up, they told him to keep going!

**I’ll eat ‘em all, the thoughts of anyone I’ll ever meet**

**Just to make them happy**

Now, Drew wouldn’t exactly call himself a kiss-ass at all. He just wanted people to like him. He wanted to make people happy. That’s why he kept up the charade of laughing and smiling and joking, just for the sake of his friends and family. Their happiness was much more important to him, anyways.

Nevin was always upset, always worried about Drew. The smaller twin understood why that was the case, Nevin just wanted to keep Drew safe, make sure he didn’t get hurt. Drew got it, he’d want the same for Nevin, if his emo twin was the younger one. He wished he was stronger, strong enough to defend himself, so Nevin wouldn’t have to worry so much.

**_Nevin wants you to lose weight. You’ll totally be stronger then._ **

Edward, Isaac, and Chris kept looking at him, with a pitiful look in their eyes, the kind of pitiful look that made Drew feel bad inside, made his organs twist and turn and slowly grind into a thick and pulpy soup. 

**_God knows why they’re pitying you. It might just be cause you keep binging and getting fat._ **

Just the thought of that made him want to tear his dry, thinning hair out and scream and cry. God, the truth really hurt sometimes. But that was okay. Soon that truth would hopefully become a big lie.

**Wondering why I’m a burden or so it seems**

**Aren’t I everything?**

But that didn’t stop him from feeling like a burden all the time. 

Drew always felt like his friends and family could do so much  _ better _ without him on this stinky, awful planet. Nevin wouldn’t have to be so stressed out all the time, since he wouldn’t have to spend all his time protecting him, because Drew wouldn’t be there, in need of protection. Nevin could spend more of his time with Chris.

And the rest of his friends? They could stop looking at him without the concern, fear, and worry in their eyes, and lacing their expressions. They wouldn’t have to waste their money to get him all sorts of extremely calorific food from the cafeteria at school, or vending machines or those awfully cruddy fast food joints that sold burgers and fries so greasy, just one  _ bite  _ would be enough to cause you to sweat butter; actually, scratch that, a diabetic would probably die just by  _ smelling  _ the damn food!

Thank God he had enough self control to not shove that junk into his body, even during his binges. Hell, the smell of grease  _ alone  _ was enough to make him puke out everything inside of him; food, organs, and all. Disgusting. Absolutely fucking disgusting. 

Not like he needed it. He was a fat, gross, ugly burden. And that needed to be fixed, as soon as possible.

**Maybe if I try a little harder, it will be okay**

**One day, keep on eating more and more**

Drew was pushing himself harder, turning up the speed on the treadmill, gasping and panting for breath as he ran. Drew wanted to collapse onto the floor of the gym and lie there for hours in a heap, letting the pain and fatigue that echoed throughout his whole body just take over until he blacked out.

But just laying around like a fat, lazy blob wouldn’t do anything. In fact, it would make him even more prone to binging, and if he binged, he’d gain weight. And there was no way he could gain any more weight! He’d binged multiple times this week, and it was only Tuesday, for Christ’s sake! He’d gained seven whole pounds! Seven!

104 pounds… what a disgrace! What a fat, ugly, useless, weak piece of  _ shit  _ he was! He’d been eating too much lately, way too much. And look what it was doing to his precious progress! Dashing it all to tiny, tiny bits and pieces! Ruining it, just like he ruined everything!

**_Fatty fatty fatty. Fuckup fuckup fuckup. Fatty fuckup fatty fuckup fatty fatty fucking fuckup!_ **

Drew had to turn down the treadmill a little bit so he could gather enough of a breath to cry properly. His sobs were loud and shaky, echoing throughout the entire gym. Thank God there wasn't anybody he knew from school here; he could hardly imagine what would ensue if someone caught him crying in  _ a public gym,  _ of all places. It would be so embarrassing, Drew could just dig a hole in the ground and die there, like an old mole. An old, fatty, smelly mole, one of the ugly ones.

With shaky, bony hands, Drew turns off the treadmill, gasping, panting, and choking out the last of his sobs. He wipes the tears away from his face. God, he was such a weak little crybaby; who on Earth has a mental breakdown in a  _ gym?  _ He shouldn’t be.

Drew checks the time on his phone, trying to steady his breathing. 7:36 pm. Dinner was most certainly over by now, and curfew was steadily approaching. He should hurry home, he really didn’t want Nevin to worry.

As soon as he stepped off the treadmill, he stumbled, the main room of the gym growing fuzzy and twirling and spinning around, as if he was on a carnival ride that blew a fuse. He surely would have fainted if he didn’t grab onto the side of a nearby treadmill. He hadn’t had anything but black coffee, diet soda and water for nearly two days now.

...maybe he should get some food in him. That is, some low-calorie food. 

**Divide my life away, into servings**

**And go beyond the point of no return**

He popped into a grocery store and bought himself a package of dried mixed fruit and a small bag of plain almonds. He sat down on a bench and counted out ten almonds and eleven pieces of fruit and popped them in mouth one by one. He was about to throw the leftover food away, but he tucked them in his hoodie pocket. He intended to save them for a later time, but ended up eating them on his way home. 

Drew probably would have felt disgusting, if the foods weren’t low-calorie, and he wasn’t extremely starving. So he just crumpled up the packaging and threw it in the first trash can he saw, which happened to be a trash can a few houses away from his own. He approached slowly, trying to steady his breathing. He needed to look calm, relaxed; not like he’d spent the last few hours in a hot, stuffy gym with a bunch of meatheads and people that had piles of yellow, sticky fat covering their bodies. 

He wiped his forehead off, making sure all of his workout clothes were stuffed into his bag and couldn’t be seen, before grasping the doorknob and entering his home, sighing in relief as the coolness of the air conditioning hit him, which made him feel so much better. The small boy spotted his more angrier twin sitting on the couch, an extremely worried look on his face, holding a pamphlet in his hands, shaking slightly, but you could tell he was trying his hardest to not let it show. 

“D-Drew- you’re finally home, thank goodness.” Nevin stood up quickly, approaching Drew. “You didn’t come home for dinner, I was worried!”

“Nevin, I’m fine, relax, my friend invited me to stay for dinner,” Drew sighed, gently pushing Nevin away, but just a bit. “Can you just leave me alone for a bit? I’m really tired, I think I might just go to bed early tonight, if that’s okay…”

It was the truth, but to be really honest, Drew just wanted Nevin to go away. He was tired, yes, and he did want to go to bed, but the thing he really wanted the most was some time alone. He’d become a bit of a shut-in lately, only really talking with his friends when they were at school. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out, it was just that he’d been feeling so  _ tired  _ and  _ drained.  _ Really, all that remained fixed in Drew’s mind as of late was how what he was eating, how much, and when; how he could work off all of those “empty” calories; and school. Socializing didn’t really fit in his schedule anymore, and Drew didn’t know how he could, and he was too tired to bother. 

“No, Drew, I-” Nevin trailed off, before sighing heavily, clearly very distressed. He grabbed a plate off of the coffee table, a plate that Drew didn’t even notice at first, and held it out, in the emaciated boy’s direction. “Just… here, please eat this. You look like you really, really need it.”

**I know I’m subservient**

**But all of this is necessary**

**Sometimes my appetite is violently contrary**

Drew’s eyes widened a little bit, as he stared at the contents of the plate. An absolutely huge serving of lasagna, with mounds of melted cheese, pools of a thick, slightly spicy and garlicky tomato sauce, and some sort of ground meat. On the side, there was some kind of vegetable medley, covered in some kind of rich and creamy sauce and spices, and a thick slice of garlic bread, still slightly warm.

He could feel his breathing quickening rapidly, at a rate fast enough to make him promptly pass out on the floor of the living room, right in front of his own brother. Just  _ thinking  _ about the calories in the entire meal in front of him was enough to make Drew want to burst into tears. He shook slightly, gathering the courage and energy to push the plate away from him, back closer to Nevin.

“N-No thanks,” Drew mumbled, stuttering his words, his voice softer, and more shaky. “I’m not hungry, I ate already.” A half lie; he was still hungry, but he had eaten those nuts and fruit before he came home, hadn’t he?

Drew started to back away, but Nevin stepped forward, grabbing him, firmly, but not too tightly. His eyes flickered cyan, a whirlwind of emotions clouding them, his entire body tense. Drew shifted nervously, Nevin’s body language making him feel uncomfortable. 

“Drew, please. I know you’re hungry,” Nevin begged, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, his shaky hands grabbing handfuls of Drew’s hoodie, which hung off of him. “You  _ need  _ to eat  _ something!  _ Have you even looked at yourself in the mirror, you look terrible!”

“I said I’m not hungry, Nevin!” Drew protested, grabbing at his brother’s hands and pulling them away from his bony, fragile body. Well, to others his body was bony and fragile. To Drew, he saw nothing but an almost unrecognizable, fleshy blob of icky, gooey, flabby fat. “C’mon, you believe me, don’t you? Can’t you just leave me be?”

The emo shook, his grip slowly loosening from Drew’s shirt. “Drew, please,” he begged, his voice unnaturally quiet. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’ll die. I don’t want you to die.”

**Irreconcilable perceptions**

**Appeal to my obsessions**

**The nausea is overwhelming**

_ Die. _

The word seemed to echo and ring throughout Drew’s head, causing a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions to start swirling through his head. What did Nevin mean, he was going to die? He wouldn’t say that unless something was really, really wrong, right?

“Die? What are you talking about, I’m not gonna die!” Drew cried, faking a smile. “Look at me, I’m fine Nev, see?”

“No! No, you’re not fine!!” Nevin screamed, tears spilling down his face. “You look half dead, you almost never eat at home anymore, Ed’s told me you’re always at the gym, and whenever anybody offers you food, you say you’re not hungry or just take it and throw it out! You have a serious problem, Drew, probably an eating disorder! You need help!”

Something started boiling inside of Drew’s stomach. A lot of confusing, conflicting emotions, but the main one? Pure, unbridled  _ rage.  _

Drew didn’t remember what else happened, but before he knew it, he was rushing to the bathroom, shoving a finger down his throat and purging until he saw bright red blood in his puke.

It all hurt everywhere.

He wanted to cry and scream and destroy every inch of his mortal being.


End file.
